Exchange Student
by Spirish16
Summary: To put it plainly, America sucked. Everything was different. The people, the places, everything. There was nothing here for her, except maybe that cute boy in her English class. Joe/Billie


Disclaimer: I don't own Meet the Robinsons. Disney does. Also, I have absolutely no idea how the exchange student program works, so I'm sure some things that I said in here are way off. But enjoy the story anyway!

**Edit 7/31/12**: Wow it's been a while. Fanfiction changes, a runaway muse, and pure laziness have kept me away for a year, but I'm back now and actually have plans to keep this story going. I haven't changed too much of the story itself, but there are some small details that will confuse you in later chapters if you don't skim through it. I started writing this story only just starting my freshman year. Now that I am almost a junior and have two years of high school under my belt, I noticed some horrible clichés that seemed like truth to my inexperienced mind, so I thought I'd have another go at it. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, faved, or followed. Hopefully I'll reply to all reviews in the future.

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><p><em>November 12, 2007<em>

Bilyana Svetkova jogged down the concrete steps of the exchange student house, her brown curls dancing across her shoulders as she went. She followed the nine other exchange students onto the newly painted yellow school bus. While the outside of the bus looked like new, that did little to improve the condition of the inside. She walked up the creaky steps, adjusting her book bag more comfortably on her shoulder as she made her way down the narrow pathway, avoiding books, papers, and other kid's feet which were sticking out carelessly in the middle of the walkway. Upon reaching the back of the bus, she slid into one of the worn and torn leather seats and leaned her head up against the window, her book bag resting on the empty space beside her. A hideous screech assaulted her ears as the doors closed and the bus jolted violently before it began to move forward. She watched the exchange student house grow smaller and smaller until her breath had fogged up the glass so much it was impossible to see outside.

But that did not bother her; she wasn't interested in the passing scenery anyway. Instead, she stared at her hands as she fiddled with the end of her shirt, trying to block out the noise from the other students. However, harder to block out was the smell. The bus smelled vaguely of sweat and throw up, but the most prevalent smell was of the perfume the girls in front of her were wearing. She supposed that in subtle amounts, the perfume wouldn't smell that bad, but with how much the girls were wearing, the smell was almost overpowering. A mix of flowers, vanilla, and fruit wafted back towards her and made her nauseous. She wondered if they could smell it themselves or if they were completely oblivious to the horrendous odor they were instilling upon others.

Before she suffocated, she cracked open the window and put her nose as close to it as possible and took deep breaths, trying to rid her lungs of the perfume. When she felt she could breathe again, she leaned back in her seat and resumed fiddling with her shirt, the butterflies that she had felt earlier returning. She hadn't even realized they were gone until she had nothing else to focus on. But now that the distraction had passed, her mind focused on the current problem.

It was her first day of high school.

A new school would have been hard enough had she been back home, but she was a world away. She didn't belong here. She wanted to go back home, to her farm. She missed the bellowing sheep she woke up to every morning. She missed her old school and all of her old friends. She missed her mother and the home cooked meals they would cook every night. She even missed her old clothes. While she did get to take several things, most of her old clothes wouldn't have "fit in" at a California high school, so her parents had given her what extra money they could for a few new things to wear. Her English was rudimentary at its best, and she had trouble understanding Alice, the caretaker at the exchange student house. But most of all, she missed her father.

Everyday after school and chores, they would go on a two mile long hike in the hills behind her village and watch the train go by. At least one train went by at relatively the same time every day, and she had not missed one for as long as she could remember. Her father would take the time to explain every detail about the specific train that was passing. He would tell her where it was coming from, where it was going, what cargo it had, and who had made it. It was the only quality time she had with him when he wasn't at work or with the rest of the family, and she missed him terribly. But he had worked extremely hard to save the money to send her here, and, not wanting to disappoint him, she had accepted.

She glanced up at the skyscrapers as they were driving by. America was so different from home. It was so noisy all the time. Cars honking and tires scraping on the loose gravel, people walking while talking on their phones or to each other, the beeps and rings of machines she had never seen before, and the roar of jets overhead. Night didn't exist here. Neon signs flashed everywhere, lights were left on in buildings, and there were just as many people out at night as there were in the day. Didn't anyone go to sleep here? Back home, once supper had been eaten and the day's chores completed, everyone went to bed.

"Billie?" Bilyana was brought out of her reminiscing when a young boy called her name. Most of the other exchange students either couldn't remember or pronounce her name, so Billie was a nickname she had become accustomed to being called. She looked up at the boy who was standing next to her and smiled.

"Hello Mathias," she said.

He took that as an invitation to sit down and put her book bag on the floor, plopping down next to her.

"You okay?" he asked, noting her far away expression. Mathias was one of the other exchange students, and one of the first people Billie had become friends with when she arrived. He was from Germany, with sandy blonde hair, light brown eyes, a muscular build, and a soft voice. His English was far better than hers so he spoke in simple sentences.

"I am fine," she lied, not really feeling up to listening to a pep talk.

But Mathias saw through her easily and smirked. "Nervous?" he asked with a smile.

Mathias was a persistent man, and knowing that she was caught, Billie decided that she would rather talk to him than to some of the other students.

"Very much," she conceded. "What if I do not do well?" She was one of the smartest at her old school, but with her poor English skills added to the fact that she was coming in the middle of the semester, she doubted her abilities.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine. Just pay attention and try hard. The teachers will give you credit for that," he said in an attempt to comfort her, but she let out a heavy sigh as she found herself still not believing him. She didn't have long to ponder though because the bus had already pulled into the school parking lot. Mathias stood up and grabbed his stuff before turning back to her and saying, "It's really not that bad. You'll do fine," before he followed the other students off the bus. Billie waited until everyone was in front of her before she too grabbed her stuff and made her way off the bus. She followed the other students through the parking lot and up to the front doors before she entered the school for the first time.

The first thing that she noticed was that the school was _huge_. Branching off from a circular entrance were three hallways; one going left, one going right, and one going straight. She could see a staircase in the middle hallway and briefly wondered if there were more than two floors. White tiles lined the walls all the way up to the ten foot high ceiling. The school was lit by large fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The halls were lined with dozens of wooden doors, some closed, some with teachers standing outside, keeping a watchful eye on the students.

That was when she realized that she had no idea where to go.

She didn't have much time to look as another wave of students entered the door, pushing and shoving her as they made their way to their classes. She shuffled her way up against the nearest wall to avoid the students and pulled her schedule out of her book bag. After a quick glance at the piece of paper, she saw that her first class was English in room E-4 with a Mr. Feemster.

Wonderful.

She put her schedule back into her bag and looked down each of the halls. She saw that the hall closest to her was labeled W, the middle hall was labeled N, and the hall that branched out to the right was labeled E. Weaving her way through the students that were still pouring through the doors, she made her way over to the E hall and started looking for E-4. Since she was looking up at the door numbers, she didn't notice the fairly large boy hurrying in the other direction until it was too late. His shoulder slammed into hers, knocking her book bag off her shoulder and scattering her books everywhere. Billie cursed in her native tongue before bending down to clean up the mess.

"I'm sorry. Here, let me help," the boy offered, picking up the remainder of her books and handing them back to her.

"Thank you," she responded, glad that he at least took the time to help her instead of just leaving her to do it herself.

"No problem. Really, I am sorry. Uh...is there anything else you need," he stammered the last part. She noted that he seemed somewhat awkward, and she wondered if it was something she did.

"Do you know where E-4 is?" She still hadn't found it.

He seemed to brighten a little bit before responding, "I'm going there now. Come on, I'll show you," he started walking back the way she had come without another word. She said 'thank you' again, but he only nodded in response.

She took this time to get a good look at him. He wasn't tall, but he was still taller than her by several inches. His hair was a light brown, and a patch of it stood up straight just above his forehead. She giggled slightly when she saw this, but he seemed not to notice. He was overweight, but not overly so. She didn't mind though; some people wondered if she was eating enough because of her thin frame. Chubby might just be the way he was. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans that were tearing around the bottoms and a plain brown t-shirt. He wore a pair of red sneakers that squeaked quietly with every step he took. He had a round chin that was just slightly cleft, deep dimples, and a small, button nose. The combination gave him an almost child-like quality. But what she admired most were his eyes. They were a deep, ocean blue. She had never seen eyes that color before.

"What?" he asked curiously.

She looked away hastily when she realized she was staring, a noticeable flush coloring her cheeks. "Nothing," she said quietly. He laughed softly before speaking the first words he had spoken during the whole walk.

"I'm Joe," he introduced himself.

"Bilyana, but you may call me Billie," She was relieved that he seemed not to be offended by her staring.

"That's an interesting name. Are you the exchange student our teacher's been telling us about?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Yes," she replied nervously. Did that label her as a 'freak' in America?

"That's cool," was his simple reply.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where are you from?"

"Bulgaria."

"Cool," he said before they fell back into silence. It wasn't an awkward silence though. Billie figured that he was just quiet.

That was when she noticed the door with the large letters E-4 printed above. She must have missed it when she walked down here the first time. Inside was probably the oddest collection of people she had ever seen.

She saw short skirts and blonde hair, ripped jeans and dyed hair, tennis shoes and sports jerseys, skinny jeans and button up shirts, dark makeup and dozens of bracelets. Tall, short, fat, skinny, they were all there. One boy in the corner had a large pair of headphones on. Several people had cell phones out and one boy had what looked like a deck of playing cards.

"You can sit wherever you want," Joe told her before wandering off to claim his own seat. Not knowing where else to go, Billie chose a seat right next to Joe. Just then, the bell rang and the rest of the students lazily made their way to their seats as a man she assumed was Mr. Feemster walked in and started to teach.

The rest of the day went by quickly for Billie. Her teachers had introduced her, given her the gist of what was going on, and then resumed teaching. She had found that school wasn't quite as bad as she thought it was going to be. English class was the hardest for her for two reasons. One, she didn't speak English. Two, she kept staring at Joe. She didn't know why she did, but whenever she looked at him, she found it extremely hard to concentrate on whatever it was she was doing. She was both relieved and disappointed that English was the only class she had with him. The best part of her day had been that Joe had offered to eat lunch with her, seeing how she didn't know anybody. She had found out quite a bit about him; he had two brothers, both of whom were married, but no nieces or nephews. He wanted to be a chef when he graduated high school, didn't have a girlfriend, his favorite class was drama, and that he was extremely quiet. She guessed that was why he had seemed awkward when he first talked to her. He usually didn't talk to many people. He was also one year older than her, but was in the sophomore English class because he hadn't done well last year, and was required to repeat it. The lunch period ended far too quickly for her, but he had offered to eat lunch with her again the next day, and she couldn't wait.

Before long, the bus had pulled up at her stop and she and the rest of the exchange students got off and walked inside. At dinner, Alice asked her, "So? How was your first day?"

Billie thought for a moment before responding nonchalantly, "It was good," and quietly continued her dinner.


End file.
